For Jenny, with
love
Please mind the horrible grammar and formatting :)
Ylera awoke as the first rays of
sunlight began to poke through the dense canopy of the forest trees.
She sat up, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath of the cool air.
She slid on and fastened up her simple brown tunic, and washed her
face in the bowl of cool water that sat by the mirror.
She was one of the Fae people, a
forest Fae specifically. While the Fae were mostly pleasant, merry
folk, years of being the lowest class denizen of the Fae had worn her
mask of merriness down, and her face appeared to be slightly older
than the rest. Her hair was drab and brown, and cut to shoulder
length to hide her slightly pointed ears.
As she washed her face, she took note
how how cool the water in the bowl and the air around her were. The
brisk autumn morning marked the first day that the seeds of the Dema
trees began to fall, ushering in the Fae people's time of Ascension.
It was one of the holiest times of the
year for the Fae, when they celebrated their creation. To the average
human, it was not much of a celebration. Not ones for lavish
grandeur, or raucous parties, the Fae would spend the next week
reflecting on their lives, from the current day, all the way back to
their creation.
The Fae, renowned for their patience,
attention to detail, and strict adherence to the law, would recount
to the others the stories of their lives. When they had finished,
they would then movie on to the stories of each of their fathers and
mothers, their grandparents, and so on. When they ran out of lineage,
they would tell of their creation, how, before the Gods created the
men and beasts of the world, the breathed life the world. The world,
however, was overfilled with the life of the Gods, and from that
energy, the Fae were born to each of the sections of the world. Into
the forests, plains, earth, rock, and oceans they sprung, kindred to
and keepers of the life of the world.
While no Fae would ever admit to it,
the stories they would tell were terribly boring. Few were of any
kind of noteworthy deed, and fewer still carried any excitement. Tale
after tale of craftsmen, hunters, and gatherers would run together.
They were the mostly the same stories as last year, and every year
before that.
Ylera, however, was excited. It wasn't
for having to hear lively tales of rigorous hoeing, but for the fact
that on the first day of Ascension, they would accept new candidates
for priesthood. For the last 200 years, she had meticulously planned
and studied for this. Every moment of every day that she had free
time, and even a few times she had not, she had practiced the Fae
magics, the magics of the life of the forest.
Fate had cursed her with the
misfortune of a birth outside of the Fae marriage laws, which had
branded her as an outcast, the lowest class Fae denizen of the
forest. While the Fae elders all took pity on her, no one treated her
as if she were worthy of serious respect or attention. By Fae law,
she was forbidden to marry, and would most likely wind up being a
poor maid, sweeping dust off of the porches of others.
Everyone would insist she should stay
positive and make the best of what she was given, but no one saw her
as worth the hassle of helping along. Long ago, Ylera vowed that if
she was not born good enough, she would make herself good enough.
Today, she would prove herself worthy.
Ylera walked out of her meager home
into the forest, to find a Dema seed to use in her testing. She
walked to the village square, as it was under a clearing of trees,
and best lit by the early morning sun. There were not many seeds on
the ground, as hours ago, the highborn candidates for priesthood had
scoured the ground for the best seeds. In addition, the Fae children
had already begun to awake, and pick up Dema seeds, the symbol of the
oldest Fae ancestors, to tell their stories to. Ylera did not care,
though, as she knew she did not need the best seed in order to be
successful.
As she looked for a suitable seed, she
noticed one of the other priesthood candidates approaching. He wore a
plan brown tunic like the rest of the candidates, and had long, white
hair, and pale white skin. These were rare traits in the Fae, but
held in high regard as a symbol of purity. He knew this, and he
walked anywhere as if he were a prince about to be crowned king.
“Good morning, Lanel,” Ylera said
as he approached, not turning to look in his direction. She couldn't
see the upset look on his face, but she knew it was there. She also
knew he wouldn't have turned around for her either, much less offer
any kind of pleasant greeting.
“Ylera,” Lanel started curtly,
pausing for to gather all of his smugness. “You should know you are
delusional. I'm not sure if I should take offense at the fact that
you have arrived too late to have a good chance of finding a worthy
Dema seed, or the fact that you assume that one would actually listen
to the lifesong of one such as you.”
“Thanks for the uplifting
conversation,” she replied, still not looking up at him as she
searched, “but I really have to find a seed so I can go on living
in my own delusions.”
“Your search is not necessary, I
have already found you the appropriate seed.” Lanel knelt down in
front of her, and held out his hand. In it was the most pitiful seed
she had ever seen. “It is already dead, that way you don't have to
deprive a Dema seed of life for your failure.”
Ylera held out her hand, and Lanel
dropped the seed in it. He then turned and walked away. As he did so,
Ylera reached out with her magic to the tiny seed, and felt life
stirring within in. She closed her eyes, and smiled. This was the
seed she was looking for.
With her success firmly planted in her
hand, she made her way to the temple courtyard. Once she had arrived,
she surveyed the area. The temple itself had been built around the
hollowed out husk of an ancient Dema tree, and legends told that in
the time before time, this was tree whose seeds had birthed the
forest Fae. The trees hollow center, having long ago lost its upper
portion, formed the courtyard.
Around the inside of the courtyard
wall were carvings of great Fae deeds, mostly of the Fae who had
sacrificed themselves so that the forest might live. In the center of
the courtyard, there was a raised platform, for sermons or speeches.
Around the outer edges, against the wall of the trunk, were small
plots, normally used for the summer gardens.
Today, those plots were empty, as they
were to be used for the Ascension testing. Ylera found the last of
the line of the empty dirt plots, and knelt down in it. As was the
custom, she unfolded a small piece of white cloth, laid it flat on
the dirt, and placed her seed on top of it.
After awhile, the royal guard entered,
signaling the arrival of the Princess and the high priestess. Lanel's
brother Danel, The captain of the guard, walked with them. He bore
the pale skin and white hair of his brother, except his skin was not
so pale, and his hair was tinged with golden strands. Above his tunic
of white and green, He wore pieces of metal armor trimmed with gold
and silver on his shoulders, wrists, and ankles, which Ylera knew
were gifts of the stone Fae. He walked with a swagger similar to
Lanel's, though it was considerably less exaggerated.
Behind him followed Vesara, the Elven
princess, who would be crowned Queen of the Fae at the end of the
Ascension celebration. She was clad in a dress that matched the white
and green patterns of Danel's garb, and as she walked, her long,
light brown hair seemed to glow, even when the sunlight did not hit
it. The princess was always kind to all of her subjects, and Ylera
felt that if she were not born of royal blood, the princess would
have still been chosen to rule by her beauty, and the goodness of her
heart.
Beside Vesara walked the high
priestess, clad in the same brown robes as the priesthood candidates,
though hers appeared to be woven of finer cloth. Her hair was short
and golden, combed straight back and held in place by a circlet made
of tree branches. Her face was calm, but her presence carried with
her the feeling that each step and every breath she took was plotted
out the night before, to maintain the order of all things.
Ylera watched as one by one they
greeted the other candidates. Long ago, the priesthood had
determined that it was the will of the forest that Danel was to be
married to the next queen of the Fae, and Ylera took a moment to
lament on this. She was beautiful, and he was impossibly handsome,
but as they walked, it was clear to her there was no chemistry
between them. As they approached, she wondered if it were possible
that the two of them would ever learn to love each other.
Princess Vesara approached, and smiled
at Ylera. She then looked down at the seed, and lines of worry
crossed her face, “Ylera, I do not believe this is a suitable
seed,” The princess said softly.
“I'll just have to make the best
with what I was given,” Ylera replied, smiling at the princess, who
in turn smiled back at her again. The princess nodded, and then moved
with Danel to her ceremonial position at the center of the courtyard.
Danel didn't so much as look at Ylera.
The high priestess called the
candidates to begin. Each one of the participants pulled their seed
off of their cloth, and buried it in the ground at their knees. Then,
they placed their hands on the ground around where they buried the
seeds, and began to sing.
Some of the songs were loud, some
choppy. Others were fluid, and some chaotic. Ylera’s was quiet, and
almost inaudible. One by one, the seeds began to sprout, slowly.
Eventually, all of the seeds sprouted, except for Ylera's.
Ylera did not panic, or even realize
what was happening. She had become entranced in her song when she
felt the seed singing along. More and more often, she was beginning
to hear these songs of the forest. She knew this was a gift few of
the Fae had, she she relished every moment of it. Their songs became
entwined, harmonizing together. She sung for the seed to grow, and
she felt the seed sing the same back to her.
Her trance was broken when she heard
the high priest proclaim, “I have made my selections.” Ylera
looked over and saw several students who had been marked with a
feather as having been selected. They all began standing up and
congratulating each other, either on a job well done, or on a good
try.
Ylera shook her head, and stated, “I
am not finished.” Though her singing had stopped, she could still
hear the singing of the seed. When no one acknowledged her, she said,
louder, “I am not finished.” There was firmness in her voice. It
wasn't a plea for recognition, but a command. Her voice filled the
courtyard, and everyone turned.
The high priestess came over, bearing
a scowl sure to put wrinkles on an ageless face. “You speak out of
turn, whelp! What nonsense is this?” she spat.
Instantly Ylera felt the blood rush
from her face. She knew this had ruined any chance she may have had
at becoming a priestess herself. The seeds song stopped. She was
finished.
“You are not finished,” she heard
the meek voice of the seed say. “The ways of this woman are the
ways of a fool. Show her the way of Ylera.”
Ylera locked her gaze with the
priestess, and stood up. There was silence for a few moments, and
then, without word, Ylera raised her foot and slammed it onto the
ground. The seed sprouted three times higher than that of any of the
other students, and even began forming a small flower.
Some of the students gasped, and some
stepped back. The princess closed her eyes, and bowed her head.
Beside her, Danel, the captain of the royal guard, frowned. Lanel's
left arm was visibly shaking. Ylera did not hear his whisper, but she
could see mouth form the word, “Witch.”
The High Priestess' face contorted
into a scowl angrier than Ylera had ever seen the face of a Fae
become. The stares of the two of them remained locked. The room
filled with an eternity of tension, but eventually the high priestess
closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath. As she exhaled, the look of
serenity returned to her face.
“Enough, child,” she said raising
her smooth, green wooden staff a few inches off of the ground,
slightly pointing the top of it at Ylera.
The High priestess slammed the bottom
of her staff on the ground, and Ylera's seedling slowly began to turn
gray and droop. As it died, she continued, “Great will can foment
great power, and can being forth life as it was never meant to be. As
the guardians of the forest, we have the power to bring life to every
dying seed, but if we did so, the forest would be overrun with trees.
It is not power over nature that is the mark of the priesthood, but
the understanding of the true will of the heart of the forest.
“You did not come here for the
forest, you came here for yourself. You are a product of a marriage
outside of the law, and it has branded your actions. You can never be
a priestess, because you do act for the heart of the forest. Life
cannot blossom to its utmost as a whole when an individual's needs
and wants are prioritized too far above that of the rest of life. I
feel the call of the heart of the forest, and that call is for you to
leave. Until you understand such priorities, you are a danger to the
forest, and banished from it.”
A look of distress crossed the face of
the princess, and she rushed over to the high priestess, with Danel
in tow on her heels. “Wait, holy one,” The princess said, placing
her hand on the High Priestess' shoulder, as a single tear ran down
her cheek. “If you cast her further from the light now, she may
never return from the darkness.”
The High Priestess clasped her hand
onto the princess' hand on her shoulder, and nodded, but before she
had time to reconsider, Ylera spoke.
“No,” she said, uncrossing her
arms, and balling her fists. Her gaze, which had not moved from the
high priestess, intensified. “What would become of me now if I
stayed? My dreams have died here with this poor dying seed. It would
be a life alone, as my status would forbid me to marry. All that
would be left to look forward to is centuries of disdain from my
people for the way I was born, an eternity of sweeping the dust off
of porches.
Tears ran down the princess' face as
Ylera had spoken, and when she finished, she wrapped her arms around
the defiant girl, and held her tight to her chest. “Please don't do
this, Ylera,” she pleaded, “There has to be another way. We'll
find it.”
“You cannot,” Ylera responded,
deadpan. She broke from the Princess' grasp, pointing to the high
priestess and the dying seedling, her arms stretched out. “It is
the law of the forest to oppose anything that might interfere in the
slightest with its longevity. My mere existence, through no action of
my own, breaks this law. 'Life cannot blossom to its utmost as a
whole when an individual's needs and wants are prioritized too far
above that of the rest of life.' My needs and wants are simply to be
treated like everyone else, but the law forbids it. You allow me to
live in the forest, but I am not welcome here. I will not wilt and
die like this poor seedling.”
At the end of her speech, Ylera did
not pause, and simply walked out of the courtyard. For the first time
in her life, she walked through the forest, not as its lowest class
Fae denizen, but as something more. No longer did she walk with the
soft footfalls of the Fae. Instead she jammed her heel into the
ground with each step, letting the forest know that she was present.
Each footfall became a crescendo to the echoes of the song of the
dead seedling that still ran through her mind.
As she continued to walk with
increasing authority, she felt true purpose course through her blood,
rising into goosebumps on her arms. As it filled her, she began to
hear the songs of the dying, invalid seeds on the forest floor. They
sung a song that was not for them, but for her. Soon, the songs of
the living seeds was joined by that of the trees and plants, and
finally, the heart of the forest. They all called for her to leave
the forest, but not out of hatred or need for the law, but as a call
for her to live, and to have her heart fulfilled.
Ylera began her journey out the
forest. She walked past the town square, and stopped her miserable
little house to grab the few possessions she owned. By the time she
left her house, word had spread among the Fae what had happened. No
one made eye contact as she passed. Young and old alike went out of
their way to avoid her path. She was no longer one of them. She was
now an outsider.
As she approached the edge of the
forest, she heard a rustle behind her, and the softest chink of metal
on metal. There were few Fae with the boldness and ability track her
out of the forest without her knowing. There was only one who would
jingle of metal.
“Have you come to spit on me one
last time before I leave the forest, Danel?” she quipped. Her voice
did not waver. As far as she cared, he could spit on her all day and
she would not be hurt by him, nor any other Fae, anymore.
Danel's face twisted in ambivalence,
shifting between disgust, and something else. Ylera wondered if he
cared, or if the princess had sent him to stop her. After spending a
few minutes trying to reconcile his emotions into words, before he
finally spoke.
“Whatever and whoever you are,”
Danel paused to sigh, “You still have the right to life. As a Fae
guardian, I am sworn to protect the lives of the Fae. But if you walk
out of the forest, you are forsaking your duty to it. If you leave
now, you will no longer be Fae,” Danel paused again, furrowing his
brow, and looking down at the ground and off to the side, “you will
be doomed, just like the last of us who decided to journey outside of
the forest. Just like our queen.”
Ylera's stern expression softened, and
her voice shrunk to an almost inaudible whisper. She looked down at
the ground, and to the side, in the opposite direction that Danel was
looking. “Then I will be doomed, just like the seedling the high
priestess killed this morning.” Her voice grew louder, and began to
regain its strength as she talked. “If my choice is eternal misery
or doom, then I choose doom.” She looked Danel in the face, and he
matched her gaze each a sorrowful mirror of the other.
“But I will fight not just be doomed
alone. I will stand for every seed, plant, beast, or person who is
proclaimed doomed with me, who is given no chance for happiness
because of the dictation of others. I will be their champion.”
Ylera turned around, and paused for a
moment before she walked out of the forest. “Goodbye, Danel. Keep
Princess Vesara safe.”
Danel watched as she walked out of the
forest. When she was out of earshot, he whispered to her, “Farewell,
Ylera, Champion of the Doomed.”